Bound by Light (2 page)

He pushed off Mother Anemone’s hand and turned from her, desperate for something, anything outside the darkness threatening to shroud his being.

The balcony across from his was empty.

Jake closed his eyes.

Most of his mind wanted to surrender, to give himself over to invisibility and the teasing call of the mountain winds. He could fly to some obscure place, never return, never expose himself to companionship—or the risk of capture—again. Or he could deny what Mother Anemone told him. He could force himself to stay in his corporeal form. Longer this time, until he couldn’t attain invisibility, or release his human body. He had already discovered that the longer he stayed present, the harder it was to disappear. He could be human in practice if not in fact, damnit.

He could do
something
.

Jake turned back to Mother Anemone.

She was trying to smile again. He knew she wanted to soothe him, but he didn’t think he would ever be soothed.

"After experiencing the freedom of invisibility and flight," she said, "after touching the wisdom of centuries of memories shared by those of your species, could you truly limit yourself to human flesh and human ignorance?"

Jake pulled the chain and ring over his head and held it out to the side, as far from his heart as he could get it without letting it go. "If this is the price of that so-called freedom, then hell yes, I’ll give it up. Just tell me how, or help me destroy this fucking thing."

Mother Anemone shook her head. "The writings have been clear on that point. If you destroy your talisman, you destroy yourself. When that chain and ring cease to exist, so do you." She gestured to the talisman. "Put it back on,
agapitos
. Keep it close to you at all times."

"I’d rather die," he growled in spite of her term of endearment, and wondered how far it was to the forbidden heights of Káto Ólimbos, lower Olympus, where he had heard the Keres, a bunch of carnivorous winged death spirits, resided. Hadn’t he signed an agreement not to go there when he arrived at Motherhouse Greece? To honor and respect a no-contact treaty held by both races?

Well, fuck that.

Jake bet the death spirits could handle him, talisman and all.

Mother Anemone seemed to read his thoughts. In a lightning-fast yet gentle motion, she plucked the talisman from Jake’s fingers.

He lurched from the shock of her fingers pressing on his inner being, yet her touch was not intrusive or demanding, nothing like he had experienced before when someone else was in control of his talisman.

It was . . . not completely unpleasant.

A surprise.

He blinked at her, unmoving, eyes pasted to the talisman now lying across her open palm. She could take the thing and force him to do whatever she wanted, whatever she desired. He knew he could resist people who commanded his talisman for a short time—he had done it before—but the agony . . . God, he didn’t know if he could go through that again.

And yet he couldn’t grab the chain and ring back from her.

His arms wouldn’t lift. His muscles wouldn’t obey his commands to do that. Either she gave it back to him, or he retrieved it when she died. No other way to regain possession of it, and control of his own will.

The thought made him boil inside.

Jake felt like an active volcano, ready to explode.

"You haven’t spent months poring over the vestigial memories of your species, learning and growing into one of the most intelligent beings I have ever known, only to kill yourself." Mother Anemone moved with graceful deliberation, letting the talisman drift up on a breeze she controlled, moving it toward him, then settling the chain over his head. The ring pressed against his chest once more, and she withdrew her hand and the well-controlled wind, giving up her power over him as easily as letting out a breath. "You’re bound by the light inside you. It must shine.
You
must shine. A man who wants to perish doesn’t boldly march into all three Sibyl Motherhouses and demand a solution to his problems."

"I’m not a man," he reminded her through his teeth, shaking from the relief of having the talisman back again. If anyone else had done that to him, he might have torn off their head.

"You’re as much man as any male I’ve ever met,
agapitos
. And in your heart, better than most of them." She placed her palm on his chest, next to the talisman. "You would be a valuable warrior in our fight against the Legion. With the terrible battles ahead—and we sense them coming—we can scarcely afford to lose such a brave and powerful leader."

Mother Anemone’s gaze drifted to the side, and he knew she was looking at the balcony where Merilee had been. "There are men and women who can interact with you without subjecting you to abuse and control, Jake. Your brothers and the Sibyls amongst them." Her eyes shifted back to his and blazed with certainty as she added, "There are people who will respect you, accept you, even love you for
all
you are, if you’ll allow that."

He let out a slow breath, trying to rein in his temper, out of respect for Mother Anemone and her efforts to assist him. He moved away from her instead of knocking her hand off his chest. "Don’t worry. I would never let that happen."

"You mistake my meaning." She was smiling again, this time for real. "I’m not worried about your interest in Merilee. I’m intrigued. Merilee is a special woman, perhaps one of the most gifted Sibyls I’ve had the pleasure to train. In my opinion, no man on Earth has been good enough for her, or strong enough to make her take the personal aspects of her life a bit more seriously, experience them more deeply—until now. She’s very important to me. I trust you will look after her, when she needs looking after."

Jake found himself speechless again, only this time, it had nothing to do with his talisman. A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed before he nodded, retrieved his duffel from its spot on the crystal floor at the foot of his bed, and began to pack his few belongings.

Another quiet minute passed before Mother Anemone asked, "For now, where will you go?"

Jake bit back sarcastic responses. "Since the Sibyls can’t help me become human again, or rid me of this talisman, seems I’ve got two choices left."

Mother Anemone waited without interrupting.

Jake grabbed a last shirt from the dresser nearest his bed, then turned to face the Mother again. "It’s either a visit with your neighbors the Keres, or the Police Academy."

Mother Anemone had shivered at the mention of the death spirits, but Jake’s mention of the Police Academy made her smile bright enough to lighten the room. "I’ll get in touch with Captain Freeman. He’ll be glad to have you, Jake. And your brothers, too. They’re both fine officers. Married to Sibyls at that. Merilee’s triad sisters."

She sounded way too delighted, and pleased with the situation and the possibilities. Again, out of respect, Jake didn’t dash the woman’s hopes as she left his room.

He’d look after Merilee as Mother Anemone wished. And he’d do this thing the Mother suggested, try being a warrior in the fight against the twisted Legion cult that stole his humanity and created him—but he would
not
mix that closely with people other than his brothers, Sibyls or no.

Jake shouldered his duffel.

His free hand drifted to his talisman, which he tucked inside his T-shirt, out of sight.

Mother Anemone was a brilliant woman, but too kind. She was able to look away from the terrible things Jake had done when others controlled the bit of jewelry now concealed beneath a layer of white cotton.

As he left the safety and peace of Motherhouse Greece, Jake knew that no matter what, he couldn’t lose sight of his crimes, of his potential for evil and devastation. That would be far too convenient—and far too dangerous for everyone involved.

Even for Merilee.

He grimaced as he walked out of his room and into the long crystalline hallway.

Make that
especially
for Merilee.

Sunlight blazed through the wide room’s crystal columns as Merilee folded three new pairs of hand-tooled battle leathers one at a time, then fit them into her travel bag.

Beside her, Mother Anemone settled herself on the white silk bedspread and gazed at her. As always, a soft breeze, as gentle and sweet as a baby’s breath, flowed off the older woman’s shoulders. She smelled like lilacs.

Merilee smiled.

Mother Anemone had always smelled like lilacs. It was one of her earliest memories.

"Have you truly rested enough?" The Mother’s concern showed in every tight line of her aged, but still beautiful face. "Your burdens in New York City will only increase when you return."

Merilee closed the bag and zipped it. "I don’t want to stay away any longer. My triad needs me—and I miss them."

Mother Anemone sighed, stirring the light wind in the room until it sang through the columns and carved abutments. "And the dreams?"

The bag in Merilee’s hands slipped through her fingers and landed on the polished crystal and ivory floor with a soft
whump.
She shivered and snatched it back up, hoping Mother Anemone didn’t notice—but knowing that she did. "I’ve had a respite while I’ve been here. Maybe the nightmares won’t come back when I leave. They’re not too frequent, anyway. I only came to tell you about them because they involved the Keres."

Both women looked out the bedroom’s arched window, in the direction of the low, misty mountain where the death spirits had resided since time before time. The carnivorous monsters remained on Káto Ólimbos because of an ancient treaty with the Dark Crescent Sisterhood.

Merilee’s muscles tightened as her mind faded back to her sixth year.

Clear as if it had happened a few minutes ago, she saw herself climbing out this very bedroom window to feel a storm rolling across the sea, to touch the rushing wind, so cool, so salty and fresh and powerful.

She remembered how she sat on the wide stone cornice, soaking up the manic breeze, watching the clouds chase across the bright full moon.

And then . . .
them
.

Black shapes whirling off Káto Ólimbos, reeling into the sky.

Merilee’s hands twitched and she almost covered her ears as she remembered the pain of those shrieks.

A stench like blood and rot . . . and one vulture shape breaking toward her, coming, coming, howling like an underworld demon—

Merilee swallowed and closed her eyes to stop the images. She touched the small scar that ran between her right ear and jaw. Just a thin white line nobody could see, but she always knew it was there. The reminder of what it felt like to fall off the Motherhouse roof and crash into a stone terrace.

The other adepts had laughed at her. They had called her a coward. Which, she supposed, she had been. All of that stuff about the death spirits—that had been a vision. It couldn’t have been anything else, and she acted a fool and freaked out, jumped off a building, busted her chin and jaw, and knocked out the rest of her baby teeth.

Idiot.

Merilee opened her eyes and took in the gentle curl of the faraway mists.

Nothing terrifying now.

Just fog and clouds and mountain.

The Keres kept to themselves.

She tried to let go of some of the tension that had knotted her shoulders, and she dismissed the tingle along the hidden scar on her jaw.

It was a long time ago, and I’m a warrior now, not a little coward who jumps off roofs.

Besides, her nightmares were totally different, not memories at all. "I think my bad dreams are just metaphors. I think maybe I’ll be facing some losses soon, and I need to get ready."

Mother Anemone was silent for a time, and the two of them remained still, listening to the beautiful movement of the wind through Motherhouse Greece.

Then Mother Anemone stood and put her hands on Merilee’s arms. "Your life needs to be about more than worry and work and duty, my love."

Merilee gazed at the woman who had always been both Mother
and
mother to her, emotionally. "Worry and work and duty
are
life. I’m a broom, remember? With
my
triad, there’s always a mess to clean up."

"That, I cannot argue." Mother Anemone squeezed Merilee’s arms and turned her loose. "But we’ll discuss this again."

Merilee frowned and leaned toward Mother Anemone, almost touching her nose to nose. "Okay, now wait. I’ve seen that gleam in your eyes before. What are you planning?"

The Mother’s smile was far too innocent as she moved back and swept her arms wide, as if to embrace all the mischief in the known universe. "I never plan, my love. I
arrange
. Now come. Share some tea with me before you go."

Still frowning, Merilee followed Mother Anemone out of her bedroom into the shining crystal hallways.